


Watching You Watch Her

by deadlydecember1214



Series: The Losers Of ‘89 Were Here [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Boys In Love, F/M, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlydecember1214/pseuds/deadlydecember1214
Summary: Eddie struggles with the fact that Richie has a girlfriend, one that is actually pretty much perfect. (High School Age Fic)
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Original Female Character(s), Richie Tozier/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Losers Of ‘89 Were Here [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/881991
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	Watching You Watch Her

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that I have literally no fics in the Losers Of ’89 collection with pining Richie or Eddie being the main focus. It’s unacceptable so I decided to change that. Hope you guys like it.

Why did she have to be so fucking great?

Eddie contemplated this question as he watched Sandy Montgomery from across the room,cuddled up against the side of _his_ best friend. Richie’s arm was sling over her shoulders and with her free hand, she had reached up to intertwine her fingers with his. He was absentmindedly tracing from her knuckles to the blood red fingernails that matched her shade of lipstick and the ribbon in her hair oh-so-fucking perfectly while he talked enthusiastically with Mike beside him.

Mike was a traitor, Eddie thought as he narrowed his eyes on them and took a sip from his red solo cup, grimacing slightly at the concoction Beverly had made him. Mike had promised him that if he came to the stupid fucking party with the rest of them that he and his current girlfriend, Mila, would stay by his side. Mike was across the room and Mila was doing shots with Beverly in the kitchen. And Eddie was standing against the wall all alone, per usual.

They were probably talking about their fucking stupid band. Richie played guitar decently and Mike could drum. They’d just started playing together at the start of the school year a couple months back and now it was all they fucking discussed. 

Sighing, Eddie rolled his eyes and felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head to find Stanley sliding into place beside him. He quirked an eyebrow and had to practically yell to the other to be heard over the music, “I thought you weren’t coming?”

“It’s Jack Colins’ party. I’m not leaving Bill alone with all these drunk baseball players.” Stan sighed, looking out at the room. 

Eddie shrugged. Jack Colins was the captain of Derry High’s baseball team, which Bill had played main pitcher for since Sophomore year. He, Mike, Ben and Bev were the only reason the Losers had even been invited as the athletes of the group. Mike was the varsity star quarterback and Ben and Bev both ran track and field. 

His eye line fell back upon Richie and Sandy and he felt annoyance flare to life in his chest. Before he could stop himself, he said, “Sandy wasn’t even invited.”

Stanley eyed him from the corner of his eye before sighing, “She’s Richie’s girlfriend. Loser by association, right? Those are the rules so she gets the same invites the rest of us do. Mila, too.”

Eddie set his jaw before taking another long gulp from his drink, “I know that. But we came up with those rules in middle school, when we were desperate for friends. It’s different now.”

“Different because?” Stanley asked, turning to give Eddie a hard look.

Eddie glanced away and shrugged, taking another drink, “Just because, okay? You’re dating another Loser, it’s not like it affects you anyway.”

“Are you jealous?” Stanley asked, bluntly.

Eddie nearly choked on his drink, sputtering and stammering, “What?! Why—Why would I be— I’m not _jealous_!”

Stan shrugged, looking between his friend and the other Losers across the room, “It would make sense, Eddie.” 

_Would it?_ Eddie thought, following Stan’s gaze to Richie, who was still wrapped around beautiful, funny, perfect Sandy. _Would it make sense?_

“You’re the only Loser who isn’t dating right now.” Stan continued, having not noticed the way that Eddie had tensed up.

Eddie felt himself deflate slightly and slipped his eyes closed, leaning back against the wall and nodding slowly. Clearing his throat, he glanced at Stan before nodding and looking at his feet, “Right… yeah, because I’m not dating anyone…”

“Speak of the devils,” Stan muttered and Eddie looked up to see Mike, Richie and Sandy heading toward them. He bit back a groan and kept his expression neutral as they approached.

“Hey, Stan The Man, came to keep an eye on your boy toy?” Richie asked with that twinkle in his eye he always got when mildly intoxicated. Eddie wondered if Sandy noticed it too before shaking the runaway thought from his mind. He couldn’t think like that, it was wrong and, more importantly, it was pointless.

Stanley said nothing, just gave Richie a look before pushing off the wall and muttering, “I’m going to go find Bill.”

Mike slipped into the spot Stan had been in a nudged Eddie, “Where’s Mila? I thought she was going to hang with you?”

“She went with Bev to do some shots in the kitchen,” Eddie shrugged, looking down into his cup.

“Damn! That sounds fun!” Sandy’s melodic voice exclaimed, drawing Eddie’s attention back up without his consent. He watched as she looked up at Richie and gently tapped his cheek, “You’re lucky I like you and am willing to stay sober enough to drive your drunk ass home.”

“I know and I cherish you, San,” Richie muttered, burying his face in the think, curly hair a top her head. 

Eddie glanced away and met Mike’s eyes, “I can take you to find Mila.”

“Nah,” Richie cut in, looking over at them with his chin resting on Sandy’s hair, “I got it. I need a refill anyway. Eds? Need anything to drink?”  


Mike moved to stand with Richie, who was finally detaching himself from his girlfriend, as Eddie shrugged and shook his head, instinctually snapping, “Don’t call me Eds. And no, I’m fine.”

“Cool,” Richie nodded and quickly leaned down to kiss Sandy, “Play nice, I’ll be back.”

“Later, Loser,” Sandy laughed, shoving him away. He laughed, shortly squeezing her hand before letting her go and following after Mike.

Why did they have to be so good together?

Eddie sighed, inspecting his cup closely to avoid looking at Sandy and thus being pulled into a conversation with her. She wasn’t bad to talk to or anything… she was actually really nice and funny, which just made it all the more fucking worse. 

He shouldn’t feel this way… he had no reason on Earth to feel this way…

His luck ran out within a minute as Sandy looked around the room, her eyes falling on him as her redrum lips curled into a smile, “Eddie? Can I ask you something?”

_No_ , he wanted to say. _Fuck off_ , he wanted to add. But he didn’t.

Instead, he just shrugged and muttered too quiet for her to hear over the music, “Free fucking country.”

Sandy ran her gaze over his face before crossing her arms over her chest and saying loudly, “So, you really don’t like me, huh?”

His stomach dropped and he stood there for a long moment, opening and closing him mouth as he stared at her like a fucking deer in headlights.  


He… he should say she was wrong, right? Wasn’t that what a good friend would do? What a best friend should do? Because he was still Richie’s best friend, right? Besides, he really had no rhyme or reason for not liking her. At least not one that made sense and didn’t make him out to be a total dick.

Finally, he managed to shake his head, “No! I— I don’t not like you, Sandy. I— I don’t even really know you.”

“And you don’t really try to,” She cocked her head to the side, “Actually, most of the time it feels like you’re avoiding me, trying to duck out of talking to me and I just wanted to know, you know, why?”

“Why?” Eddie echoed, still floored. Sandy was watching him with observant but unbothered eyes. If she really felt like he didn’t like her, it was clear that she didn’t care all that much about his opinion. He blinked and looked away before glancing back at her, “I don’t—“  


“Is it because you don’t think I’m right for Richie?” She asked, tucking some of her flowing hair behind her ear, which was pierced in three places. Jesus, if he brought home a girl like her to his mother… It could possibly be worse than the way he was sure she’d react to finding out he was gay.

“No!” Eddie shook his head instantly, “That’s not it!”

“So you admit it, then? You admit you don’t like me?” Sandy quipped, a flash of something like triumph in her lush green eyes, those lips forming a confident smirk.

Eddie’s mouth slammed shut again and he shuffled uncomfortably, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at her. It felt like she was picking him apart, taking his walls away brick by brick and worming her way behind his exterior to the things he didn’t want anyone, especially her, to see. Again, he didn’t know what to say and he figured anything he managed to come up with, Sandy wouldn’t listen to anyway. 

She’d already made up her mind that she knew everything. That she was totally right…

She _was_ right, though, wasn’t she?

“Come on, that’s gotta be it, Eds. You think I’m wrong for Rich—“

“Do _not_ fucking call me that,” Anger flared, hot and fierce in his chest, roaring up his throat and burning it. He spun his head back to look at her, glaring and continuing on hotly, “That’s not fucking it, Sandy, okay? You’re fucking perfect for Richie, you’re goddamn everything he’s ever wanted! It’s great, really, is it! I just don’t like you because I don’t fucking like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Sandy watched him as he practically yelled at her before falling silent. She sighed, shrugging, “I mean, I don’t think that’s something anyone wants to hear but okay. There’s hundreds of personalities out there, some are bound to clash.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie rolled his eyes, spotting Richie head back their way with Mike and Mila trailing behind him, “I’m leaving now, Sandy.”

He ended up having to walk home, as Mike had been his ride.

* * *

Two weeks after the party, Eddie had finally started to wind down from the whole thing. He’d spent almost all his time since waiting for Richie to confront him about being a dick to his girlfriend but he never did. Sandy must have not told him… shocking, really, with how wrapped around each other those two were. 

Maybe it should have endeared him somewhat to her, having some secret that she’d kept, but it didn’t. He still felt like screaming every time she sat with them at lunch, on Richie’s other side, and wanted to throw up when he caught sight of his best friend leaning over to whisper some sweet nothing into her ear. It was getting to the point where he was avoiding ever hanging out with the Losers anymore because she was just always fucking _there_. There on Bill’s couch, snuggled into Richie’s side while they watched movies, there in the library, passing notes to Beverly about Bev’s clothing sketches, there all the time. 

He couldn’t get away from Sandy and Richie and their nauseating obsession with each other.

However, he had agreed to pattering along with Mike to a rehearsal for his and Richie’s band in their bassist’s, Danny’s, garage. 

Danny was fine… maybe even cute when Eddie gave him a little more attention but he wasn’t all that interesting or entertaining. Good enough at bass, though, Eddie guessed as he sat on the couch in the corner of the garage, reading his assigned book while the guys practiced. 

“We could try You Shook Me All Night Long?” Danny suggested, playing with some cords on his bass nonsensically.

Richie shot him a look, “Can you fucking sing Brian Johnson, Danny? Cuz, I sure as hell can’t. I can barely manage some of Jagger’s range so no, we’re not going to try You Shook Me All Night Long. Ideas, Micycle?”

“I don’t care, Rich,” Mike sighed, glancing over at Eddie, who was still hunched over his book, “Something from Queen? We’re decent with Under Pressure or Another Bites The Dust.”

“See, Danny?” Richie snarked, pointing to Mike, “ _That’s_ what a good idea sounds like, you should try it on for size sometime.”

Mike laughed as Danny flipped Rich the bird before starting the iconic bass line for Under Pressure. Hearing this, Eddie glanced up, his eyes immediately finding Richie. He watched as the spastic asshole looked back at Mike, nodding in unison before they both joined Danny and started singing at the same time. 

Eddie loved Queen… And he loved watching Richie play. Watching _Mike_ and Richie play, that is. 

Eyes trailing to follow Richie’s spidery digits as they found the cords on muscle memory alone, he suddenly felt like all the air had gone from his lungs, like Henry Bowers had just clocked him cold in the gut. Biting his lip, he forced his head back down and stared at the words on the page before him but not reading a single word.

All he could think about was that look of earnest concentration on Richie’s face that he only got when he was still getting comfortable playing a song… 

He let out a breath of air and felt his face burn. Fucking humiliating.

Humiliating and pointless.

They played through the song and followed it by striking up the rhythm of Everybody Wants To Rule The World and then playing into Bastards of Young. After that song, Richie called for a break, eyeing the clock. He sighed, “Alright, San just got off work so she’ll be here in a bit, that cool, Danny?”

Danny shrugged, “I don’t care. Just don’t, like, fuck in my house.”  


Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and forced the image of Sandy and Richie intimately wrapped up together from his mind as he heard Richie chuckle, “I swear to save all the fucking for her place later, Danny Fanny.”

Jumping up from his seat on the couch so that his book went tumbling to the floor, Eddie hastily snatched it up and ran a hand down his face, “I—Uh—I just remembered I gotta go so I’m just going to—“  


“Seriously?” Richie asked, eyebrows drawing together. “You have to leave?”

“I— Yeah, my mom’s got, like, a thing so I’ll just walk back home before she freaks the fuck out,” Eddie shrugged, being uncharacteristically rough as he shoved his book into his backpack and kept his eyes on the ground.

Richie sighed, watching him, “Why are you so fucking busy all the time, now? You skip movie nights, you flake out of study sessions at Bev’s and Bill’s… It sucks, we barely hang out anymore, Eds.”

Eddie let out a humorless laugh and shot Richie a look, “Yeah, because that’s _my_ fault.”

“Guys…” Mike broke in, raising his eyebrows.

At the same time, Richie rubbed the back of his neck and shot back, “What’s that supposed to mean?”  


“It means,” Eddie huffed, turning back to face Richie fully, “You’re the one who’s been too busy shoving your tongue down some random girl’s throat to make plans, not me.”

“Some random girl?” Richie snapped, sounding genuinely angry for the first time in the conversation, “Sandy’s not some random girl. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie shook his head, “So, I’ll just wait the month or however long this one’s gonna last and then just hang out with you after.”

“Eddie!” Mike scolded, shaking his head. 

Danny was watching the two like they were a tennis match.

Richie turned his head away, laughing to himself in a humorless fashion before nodding and looking back at Eddie, “You know what? Fuck you, Eds. At least I’ve been in more relationships than just one four-day long fling from a year ago. What are you, twelve?”

Eddie glared, jaw set as he slung his bag over his shoulders, “Fuck you, too, asshole. As there’s even _anyone_ in Derry worth wasting my time on.”

With that, he shoved his way out of the garage and out of the house, heart still hammering in his chest and his blood boiling. Why was everyone always so fucking obsessed with how many people you’d dated anyways? And it wasn’t like he had a ton of options, being gay in Derry, anyway and Richie fucking knew that! 

Crossing his arms over his chest, he made it to the end of the driveway before Mike caught him.

“Eddie!” He heard his friend calling to him, “Eddie, come on, wait!”

Throwing his head back dramatically, he spun on his heel to face him, “What do you want, Mike?”

Mike stopped before him, opening and closing his mouth and glancing away before sighing and rubbing his hands together, “You… you can’t really be mad.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! He said—“  


Mike cut him off before his voice could rise up too high, “He said what he did because _you_ started it! And you… really don’t have a right to start stuff about him and Sandy.”

“A right?” Eddie demanded, “What does that even—“  


“You could have done something about it, Eddie,” Mike broke in again forcefully before sighing again and continuing softer and more somber, “You— you had every chance to make a move and you didn’t.”

Eddie stood there in Danny Costello’s driveway and felt like sinking right through the crust of the Earth so that he could burn up in the fucking core. That would be better than this, then having this conversation, because this couldn’t be happening. No one— No one could know that he— 

He swallowed and stared at Mike, barely whispering, “I— I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mike let out a long breath and nodded, keeping Eddie’s gaze, “Well, I think you do… And you can’t be mad at him for not waiting around for you to do something about it.”

“I’m not mad,” Eddie answered without thinking, “And I’m not— I didn’t expect— I don’t— Mike, I — I gotta go. My mom— I gotta go.”

He nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get away.

* * *

It was movie night again and Eddie had forced himself to go.

He was being ridiculous, he had realized that on his walk home from the band rehearsal two days before. He was the one with the problem. He was being unreasonable, he was being crazy. And in the long run, it wouldn’t matter one way or another what Sandy thought of him but it would matter if Richie was mad.

His own idiocy wasn’t worth fighting, really fighting, with Richie. They didn’t fight, well, at least not the kind of fighting where they ended up honestly mad at each other. They snapped, they bickered, they argued but they didn’t ever mean any of it. It was just the way they were and Eddie wasn’t willing to risk that just because he was being a fucking psycho. 

He’d gone to Richie’s locker first thing the next day and apologized. He even taken it a step further, promising he would make time to get to movie night that week… Which was how he’d wound up in his current situation.

It wasn’t actually bad yet, he thought, laughing as he watched Beverly, Mike, and Bill playing flip cup, without alcohol as Bill’s mother was upstairs, around the coffee table before him. 

Richie, and by extension Sandy, hadn’t gotten there yet, his eyes unwittingly flickering to the other end of the couch, where the two usually snuggled. His chest constricted and he almost reached for the inhaler he didn’t carry anymore before grasping the pillow he had been hugging tighter.

Stupid.

“D—Dammit, Bev, how are you suh—so good?” Bill asked, leaning back on his hands as Beverly won yet another round against him and Mike.

The red head winked at him, adding, “I’m even better at beer pong.”

“We know,” Mike rolled his eyes, reaching up to flick one of the empty solo cups at her. Beverly easily caught it in air and set it on the edge of the table, flipping it in one try before giving Mike a cocky smile.

“Where’s Mila?” She asked as she gathered up the other cups and handed them up to Ben, who took them out to the kitchen for her. 

Mike rolled his eyes, “She had to work and she refused to switch shifts with her friend because I guess she’s mad at me for something, I don’t know. She said she wants a night where she doesn’t have to see my face.”

Beverly laughed, leaning into Ben’s side as he took his spot beside her once again. From the chair over to the side, Stanley glanced over at them from his homework, “Well, you must have done something. Mila is the first sane girl you’ve dated.”

“I think she’s bugged that I cancelled plans to meet her parents this weekend,” Mike shrugged, “I didn’t want to but my grandpa said he needs me all weekend to help with this seasons harvest.”

“Still,” Bill said, shaking his head, “C—Can’t cancel on the SO’s p—parents, Mike.”

Mike was about to respond when the front door flew open, causing half of them to jump. Eddie, so thoroughly desensitized to Richie’s dramatic entrances, merely glanced over his shoulder and felt his heart jump into his throat. Richie was grinning, actually grinning, not the smirk-smile thing he did most of the time, and he was alone. 

He felt his palms grow sweaty as he turned around fully to greet the trashmouth, “You’re late, asshole.”

Richie raised his eyebrows at him, still smiling wide and real, “Am I? Whoops.”  


Behind Eddie, on the floor Beverly shot him a playful glare, “Yeah, Trashmouth, and it’s your turn to pick the movie, too, so we couldn’t even start anything without you.”

“Right,” Richie laughed a little and shook his head to himself. 

Eddie’s eyebrows drew together and he glanced over his shoulder at Stanley, who also looked perplexed. Something was off. Usually about now, Richie would make some joke about how his pick for the week was some porn knock-off of a famous movie or something like that. He’d have already climbed over the back of the couch and pinched Eddie’s cheeks, saying hi and commenting about how cute he looked. 

Instead, he was still just standing there, smiling to the point Eddie was starting to wonder if he was high on something.

Stanley spoke before he could, asking, “What are you giggling about, Trashmouth?”

Richie reached up, rubbing the back of his neck, and laughed again before declaring dramatically, “My dearest friends, I have come to the conclusion that I am completely obsessed, utterly in love, totally devoted!”

Before he could stop it, Eddie felt his expression go slack, his lips parting slightly as his breath caught in his throat. 

Richie didn’t seem to noticed that or anything else, throwing his arms skyward as he rambled on, “I am in love with Sandra Penelope Montgomery and I must declare my love to the Heavens!”  


“Please,” Eddie heard Beverly’s voice from somewhere distant, even though he was sure she was within reaching distance behind him, “Don’t do that, Tozier. But congratulations, I like Sandy. She’s good for you.”

“Yeah, that’s awesome, Rich,” Ben, again sounding miles away, added.

Eddie blinked, feeling the air in his throat and lungs like a fire that was licking him up from within. He couldn’t look at Richie, at his big, wide smile anymore, his eyes darting to his hands instead as he heard all the others cracking jokes or talking about how fucking great Sandy was and how happy they were for Richie. He wanted to join them, wanted to be happy for Richie too, but instead all he felt was that burning and a sense that he was on the verge of an asthma attack. 

Breaking into a coughing fit, grasping his throat, he muttered something about needing water and bolted for the kitchen. He barely stumbled through the door but managed, going to the sink and turning the cold water on to full blast. 

Each breath of air felt like pins and needles in his lungs and he felt his eyes prickle with tears as he reached out to grasp the counter so hard his knuckles turned white. His vision was becoming tunneled and it hit him a like a Mac truck that he was having a panic attack. A full blown, real deal panic attack.

He was having a panic attack and he wasn’t sure wether he was going to pass out, vomit down his front or just fall over dead right there. All he was sure of was that something awful was happening, something so awful he couldn’t even think it without wanting to cry.

Leaning down, he forced his eyes closed, taking in one breath at a time. He started off shaky and lightheaded by slowly, slowly managed to achieve some semblance of steady oxygen flow before he felt a hand fall onto his back. He jumped, standing up straight and whirling around to find Mike leaning against the counter beside him.

Eddie met the other boy’s eyes and quickly darted his gaze away, shame and embarrassment welling in his. He looked up at the ceiling, letting out a long, shaken breath before barely whispering, for only Mike to hear, “He’s in love with her.”

“I know...” Mike mumbled, shifting beside his friend, unsure of how exactly to help. He settled on reaching out to rub Eddie shoulder, “I’m— Eddie, I really am sorry.”

Eddie shook his head, being his hands up to run them down his face, whipping away any tears that he slipped through his defenses, “It doesn’t matter.” 

He wasn’t completely sure who he was trying to convince, himself or Mike. Either way it was true. It didn’t matter, how he felt about Richie, how Richie felt about Sandy, none of it. It never had. Because so what if Mike had been right? So what if he did have feelings for Richie? Not a single part of it changed what was happening now. Richie was in love with Sandy and Eddie...

He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head at himself before turning his head to Mike, “I’m fine Mike, I just need some water. You’re going to miss the start of the movie. Just, go.”

Mike watched him carefully for another minute before nodding slowly and slipping out of the kitchen. Eddie stood there alone for another minute, feeling that overwhelming sense of dread wash over him again but this time keeping himself together despite it. He bit his lip hard and bounced on the spot, taking more deep breathes before turning around and getting himself a glass of water.

He wasn’t dead, he reminded himself.

He could live with Richie being in love with Sandy. He could move past that, right? Surely. 

Eddie’s brain flickered back to that sight of Richie, smiling bigger than he thought he’d ever seen, coming into the house just moments ago. Richie, looking happier than Eddie could remember him being in a long time. That couldn’t be a bad thing, could it?

Richie being happy?

He could survive this, live with the burning in his chest. As long as Richie was happy, he could do that easily.

Gulping his water, Eddie schooled his expression into a casual smile and went back to the living room to watch whatever dumb ass movie Richie had picked with his friends.

As long as Richie was happy, Eddie would find a way to be fine with it.


End file.
